Chapter Text
The day she arrives at Hogwarts the castle is still and silent. Clark tells her it’s because students don’t arrive until September and most of the professors spend their holiday away from the castle, and all Kara can think is why? Why would anyone ever want to leave…this?
Krypton was full of tall, sleek buildings, of fast moving hovercrafts, dense smog, and a deep red sky. But Hogwarts—Hogwarts is expansive and wide, some sort of wide sports arena near the forest, a dark lake (riddled with soft ripples and the occasional tentacle) marring the otherwise expansive and seemingly never-ending grounds. Everything is bright and green and old, and it’s enough to distract Kara from the ache in her chest that she hasn’t been able to shake since Clark pulled her out of her pod.
She follows her cousin now, wordlessly mimicking his casual and easy gait, trying to balance her wonder at the place he’s invited her to and the wonder she feels each time she takes him in. He’s so old, a few gray hairs at his temples, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles, a bit of stubble on his chin where he didn’t shave properly after she distracted him by nearly setting fire to his apartment that morning. He has a smile on his face, almost as if he’s entirely unaware of it, and when he catches her looking at him, the smile widens as he pauses on the path to the castle, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you scared?” he asks her, straightening her glasses for her. She’s still not used to them, hating the way they impair her vision, and she lets them slide down the bridge of her nose far more often than she probably should.
“No,” she says, blatantly lying. Clark chuckles and bends so that they’re eye-level.
“It’s okay to be frightened, Kara,” he tells her, adjusting his own glasses needlessly and making her smile. “But this is the most protected place in the world, no one is going to know Superman’s little cousin is here.”
“Why can’t you stay?”
“Jeremiah needs my help,” he says simply, not going into detail. The Danvers weren’t a wizarding family (she has been informed this means Alex is what they call ‘muggleborn’ not that that makes any sense to her at all), but they were involved heavily with the movement to make Earth safer for aliens. Between that and Superman’s very public clashing with Lex Luthor (the leader of the wizarding faction committed to hunting down and eliminating all aliens), it was decided that Kara would stay at Hogwarts—where it’s safe—until things calmed down.
“But I don’t have magic.” She says the word in a whisper, unsure if they’re still supposed to keep that a secret like they were as they travelled to Hogwarts ‘the muggle way.’
“You will. Your Kryptonian cells will absorb the magic in the air, just remember—”
“—my name is Kara Danvers, I’m Alex’s adopted sister, I’m an exchange student from Ilvermorny, I’m not from Krypton and I have no powers,” she recites, pulling away from Clark and avoiding his eyes.
“This is for your safety, Kara. You’re not the only alien at Hogwarts, but you’re the only one with a target on your back.” He sounds awfully sad, even guilty, and Kara looks back up at him, unable to stay angry for long. She wonders what her mother would say—Kara had been sent to Earth to protect Clark, but now he’s the one doing all the protecting. “Come on. We don’t want to be late for our appointment with Professor Henshaw.”
“Who is he?” Kara asks as they begin walking once more. The closer they get to the castle, the easier Kara finds it is to keep her eyes off Clark, distracted by the bustling noises she hears from within Hogwarts—the chattering, the screeching of stone against stone, the clank of shoes against the ground. She hopes that Clark is right and she’ll learn to block out all the extraneous noise, because otherwise she worries it will take merely a few days before she’s driven mad. (“It’s too loud,”she’d shouted at Clark when he pulled her out of her pod. “Make it stop!”)
“Professor Henshaw is sort of like the alien counselor at Hogwarts. He’s in charge of the program, and besides Alex, he’s the only one who knows who you are. You can trust him.”
“Is he…” She trails off, not quite sure how to word her question, English still unfamiliar on her tongue. On Krypton, she’d been praised for being so proficient in learning a variety of languages. Here on Earth, there’s no one to impress. “Is he like me?” she finally settles on, slowing enough that Clark turns to her and she can study the look in his eyes, wanting to ensure he’s not going to lie.
“Humans don’t pose a danger, Kara,” Clark says quietly, avoiding her question entirely. She wonders if that’s answer enough. “For the most part, they’re kind and accepting.”
“Then why do I have to lie?”
“Because your cousin is Superman,” he says, stopping once again to place his hands on her shoulders, though this time he drops to his knees and looks up at her. “You will make friends here, Kara. You’ll meet people who won’t care about your biology or what planet you’re from. But you’ll also face people who will believe you pose a threat, and fear always leads to intolerance and hate.” He lets out a soft sigh, looking tired and worn in a way she hadn’t thought possible. He always seems so strong, so sure, that the weariness to his shoulders frightens her. “I want you to be safe, Kara. And as long as you stay away from Luthor, the safest place for you right now is Hogwarts.”
“My name is Kara Danvers,” she recites with a nod, determined to be strong—if only for Clark’s sake, to protect him the way her mother had instructed, lift some of that weight off his back. “I’m Alex’s adopted sister. I’m an exchange student from Ilvermorny. I am not from Krypton, I have no powers, and I’m staying away from Luthor.”
“What House will you choose when the Sorting Hat asks?” Clark asks, getting to his feet without meeting her eyes, making her wonder what he’s trying to hide behind his falsely cheery segue.
“Hufflepuff,” she says decisively, taking his hand and dragging him towards the Entrance Hall.
“Not Gryffindor like me?” he asks in mock affront. Kara doesn’t do much but laugh and shake her head in response.
(Not Gryffindor, she doesn’t say,because I don’t think I’m brave like you.)
x
She isn’t allowed a Sorting ceremony. It would be too conspicuous to allow her to put on the Hat with the first years, especially considering she’s not eleven and though she’s supposedly Alex’s little sister, she’s never been mentioned before.
(Professor Henshaw, a severe looking man who eyes Kara a little too knowingly, had claimed that it would be dangerous putting the spotlight on her like that. He claimed it’d be simpler to just place the Sorting Hat on her head in Headmistress Grant’s office, join her Housemates in the Great Hall as the students shuffled in, and pretend as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Youmustfit in, Miss Danvers,” he had said, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder and making her wince with the use of a name that isn’t actually hers. “Alex will be around to help you, but until you understand how things work around here, invisibility is your best option.” He had seemed serious and knowing, so Kara had agreed, trying to pretend she didn’t see Clark nodding along from behind Professor Henshaw, a dark expression on his face, a sad gleam to his eyes.)
What she gets in place of a Sorting ceremony is a seat across from Cat Grant’s desk, squirming under the intensity of her gaze.
(Clark had whispered, just low enough so that no one else could hear, about Professor Grant’s worldwide renown, how she had singlehandedly revolutionized education at Hogwarts—how she was considered one of the greatest headmasters Hogwarts had ever seen, second perhaps only to Minerva McGonagall. Kara pretended that all that made complete sense to her.)
Cat Grant is small, but her stare is hard and intimidating, making her seem more ferocious than any Daxamite Kara had grown up hearing horror stories about. Yet, despite how large she looms in mere presence, there’s a certain softness to Professor Grant, a tinge of fondness and affection in her eyes and motions. She stands from her seat as Kara sits down, her palms pressed firmly against her desk, eyes never wavering from Kara’s.
“You’re Kara Danvers, I presume,” she says, her voice warmer than what Kara had imagined, something soft in the vibration against her vocal cords as she speaks. (Kara wonders if that is something she will have to get used to, something she will have to actively block out, just like all the other sounds that continually threaten to overwhelm her.)
“Yes, Professor,” Clark offers, silenced when Professor Grant holds up a single hand, not even bothering to look his way.
“She’s thirteen, not three, Mr. Kent. She can speak for herself.” A pause follows her words, stretching just a tad too long before Kara realizes she’s meant to speak up now.
“Right. Yes. I’m Kara Zo—Danvers.”
Professor Grant lets out a less than pleased hum, looking close to rolling her eyes. “I don’t know how things were at Ilvermorny, Keira,” she says, stepping out from behind her desk and circling over to Kara, hands clasped behind her back. Kara opens her mouth to correct the use of her name, remaining silent when she catches the subtle shake of Clark’s head. “Quite frankly, I don’t careabout Ilvermorny. It’s not even a footnote in the novel that is Hogwarts—in fact, I’d say Ilvermorny is a messy attempt at a sequel that was never necessary in the first place.” Kara swallows, unsure how to take in that information, choosing instead to focus on Clark’s vaguely amused expression. “I just want you to be aware that Hogwarts is different—Hogwarts demandsexcellence. If you’re not here to be the very best you can be, you might as well turn around and leave the same way you came.” She stops, bends so that she’s eye-level with Kara, and purses her lips. “Do we understand each other?”
“I think so.”
“Think so? No, no, no, Keira. That’s not enough. Are you prepared to push your talents to the very edge, to excel in the things you love, to show the world who you are?”
“What if I don’t know who I am?” Kara asks, not daring to look either at Professor Grant or Clark. After a short pause, she hears a laugh from her right, watches in astonishment as the Headmistress heads towards the opposite side of the expansive office, avoiding tables covered with frail-looking golden contraptions, before lifting a disgusting looking hat from off one of the bookshelves.
“This,” Professor Grant says as she dusts the hat off with a grimace, “is the Sorting Hat. It’s not much,” she continues, looking as if she’s reading Kara’s mind, “but even if you don’t know who you are, it will.” She steps back over to Kara, tossing her the hat rather carelessly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well go on, put it on.”
“Oh right, sorry.”
With shaky hands, Kara places the dingy hat on her head, shocked when it seems to come to life, swiveling her head about, tightening and loosening as if it’s trying to squeeze knowledge from out of her brain.
“Curious,” she hears a deep voice say, startled to realize it was the hat. (Clark and Professor Henshaw had explained there was a hat during the Sorting ceremony. She hadn’t known the hat was alive.) “Very curious.”
“Get on with it,” Professor Grant mutters, clearly annoyed. “I haven’t got all day.”
“I see,” the hat says, though what it is that it sees, Kara doesn’t know. She wonders if it has eyes. “But where to put you?”
“Hufflepuff,” Kara says, not realizing she’s spoken aloud until she hears Professor Grant’s snort and Clark’s sigh. “I like Hufflepuff,” she adds in a whisper.
(She doesn’t say that in the short time she’s spent with the Danvers, Alex has regaled her with stories about the four houses, telling her about the brave Gryffindors, the clever Ravenclaws, the ambitious Slytherins, and the happy Hufflepuffs. She doesn’t say that she doesn’t feel very brave or clever or ambitious, but that even a chance at happiness is too tempting to ignore.
She doesn’t say that she’s not looking to be excellent, she’s just looking to not feel so alone.)
“Well, if you’re sure…” The hat swivels her head once more, as if still trying to get something to shake out, then flops loosely against her skull. “Better be—”
“Oh hush, no need to yell here,” Professor Grant admonishes, swiping the hat off Kara’s head. “We get it, she’s a Hufflepuff.” She tosses the hat onto her desk and stares down at Kara, looking unimpressed even as a faint hint of amusement lined her features. “How strange. The hat rarely speaks aloud when it’s contemplating a student’s future. I think the only exception I’ve ever seen is Mr. Kent here.” She turns to him, raising an eyebrow.
“You were always looking for a story, Cat,” Clark says, shuffling forward and pulling Kara to her feet. “I promised Jeremiah I’d see Kara off, I’d like to say goodbye before I head out. If that’s all right with you, of course, Headmistress.”
“Curious,” Professor Grant says in response, smiling and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s always a pleasure, Clark. Tell Lois I said hello, will you. Actually, maybe I should send her an owl soon.”
“She’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”
“I’m sure.” She smiles again, this one looking positively knowingand it sends shivers down Kara’s spine. “Be sure to arrive at the Great Hall with the other students, Keira. Your less than traditional admittance to Hogwarts will not be an excuse for tardiness.”
Kara nods shakily, not daring to turn her back to Professor Grant as she backs out of the office, Clark seemingly torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to run in order to escape Cat Grant’s gaze quicker.
(She says her farewells to her cousin back at the Entrance Hall, hugging him as tightly as she can, reveling in the short moment that she doesn’t have to think about accidentally hurting someone or breaking something.
Clark promises to write—an owl a day, at least—but Kara’s so busy trying to memorize his soft voice that she can’t find it in herself to even respond.)
x
“Kara, are you okay?”
(She should’ve known Alex would notice—tasked by her father to watch over Kara, instructed to make sure that Kara had someone to protect her while at Hogwarts. She doesn’t know Alex very well yet, but she knows enough to feel embarrassed that she thought she could escape the Great Hall unimpeded and unscathed.)
“I’m fine. Great, actually. Perfect.” She runs out of adjectives, her poor English getting in the way of her babbling.
“You ran out of there pretty quick, Kara. Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex looks different in her robes, the blue and silver prefect badge on her chest gleaming somehow despite the low light of the corridor. Students shuffle past them, not apologizing or pausing as they ram their shoulders into one another in their haste to make it up to their common rooms.
(It’s soloud.)
She doesn’t realize she’s said those three words aloud until she feels Alex grab her by the elbow and drag her in the opposite direction as the mass of students, shoving her into the first empty classroom they come across.
“Kara, focus on my voice okay?” Alex murmurs, taking hold of Kara’s hands, squeezing them. (She must be holding on as tightly as she can because Kara thinks she almost can feel the pressure, thinks there might be a twinge of discomfort at the tightness—that it’s not all wishful thinking.) “Just focus on me and my voice. Let everything else fade. The only sound is me.”
(She’s wrong. There’s the crying somewhere in the dungeons, the sound of pens against paper as students frantically wrote to their parents about their first night, there’s laughter and chatter and shouting, there’s stone screeching against stone, a knight named Cadogan challenging everyone he sees to a duel, there’s the howling of the ghosts and the snickering of Peeves, and it’s loud.)
“Kara. Me, focus just on me.”
(There’s the sound of Alex’s heavy breathing, the even and steady thump of her heart, the slight rustle of her robes as she shifts her position, the tap of her finger against her wand, the slight waver to her voice….
Kara’s eyelids flutter shut and she focuses on Alex—on her voice, on her heart, on her breathing—and everything else begins to die away, the pain and the brightness and the excessfinally begins to fade and it feels as if she can breathe again.)
“There you go. Come on, Kara, take your hands off your ears, you’re going to be all right.”
“I don’t like it here. I want to go—” She stops herself, eyes opening in shock. It occurs to her, for the first time maybe, she has nowhereelse to go. There’s nothing to look forward to like the student crying in the dungeon, there’s no sense of escape like the siblings up in one of the towers. Because Kara…Kara has no home.
“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Alex says, cradling Kara’s cheeks and gently pushing Kara to meet her eyes. “You and I are in this together, okay? You have me. If you feel overwhelmed, just…just come to me. We can have a sister night. You know? I’ll let you into the Ravenclaw tower and we’ll do puzzles or read or I can help you study. What do you think, Kara?”
She nods quickly, allowing Alex to pull her closer, not quite forward enough to hug Alex back, but appreciating Alex’s strong arms anyway.
“Yes,” she mutters against her adoptive sister’s shoulder—a description that seemed realfor the first time. “Yes, that sounds good.”
x
She meets Lena Luthor in Potions and—for reasons far beyond her—she finds herself unable to look away.
Winn, the Ravenclaw who had been partnered up with Kara (an initiative started by Professor Grant back when she was still teaching, ensuring students interacted and learned from students of other houses), notices the staring after several minutes of going ignored as he explains the nuances of potion-making. He waits until the aging Professor Perry passes them by before he elbows Kara in the side.
“No,” he says. “Don’t even go there.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You’re staring at Lena Luthor, but you should leave her alone,” Winn warns, serious for the first time since she met him. He’s normally full of laughs and jokes, so Kara looks away from the back of Lena’s head—where she’s sitting, sans a partner, up at the front of the class, looking stiff and uncomfortable—and focuses on Winn instead.
“Why?” (She asks because Clark had never explained—he’d just given her instructions and left. She asks because she stares at the back of Lena’s head and she doesn’t see anything to mark her as different, the way Clark’s tone and words had seemed to suggest.)
“Because Lena is…” He wrings his hands, looking terribly uncomfortable suddenly. “Look, I like her. I do. She’s the smartest in our class, she’s nice, and she always shares her notes. But Lena doesn’t make friends, okay? She’s a Luthor.” He whispers that last part like it should mean something to Kara, and while she recognizes it from the things Clark had said, Kara doesn’t understand why it inspires so much…fear.
“Wait,” Kara murmurs after a moment, remembering the things Clark had quickly filled her in on in the few months between landing on Earth and being told she would be attending Hogwarts, “is she related to Lex—”
“Shh!” Winn hisses, reaching out and clamping a hand over Kara’s mouth. She pulls him off, and winces a little when Winn rubs where she’d touched him, a pained expression on his face. “Whoa, okay. You don’t like being touched. I’m sorry.” He continues to rub his arm but a smile appears on his face. “You’re strong. Like, reallystrong.”
“Is she?” Kara asks, ignoring Winn entirely. “Related to…” She trails off, unwilling to say the name and have Winn put his hand over her mouth again. He looks upset that the topic has been brought up again, and he follows Professor Perry’s movements over at Lena’s workstation with his eyes, sniffing a little when the Professor seems thrilled at whatever he sees in Lena’s cauldron.
“She’s his little sister,” Winn finally says with a sigh. “She’s nothing like him,” here he turns to Kara, as if wanting to drill that in, make sure she understood, “she’s nothing like him at all. But people talk. And everyone is scared—not of her,” he hastens to add at Kara’s confusion. “Of her brother. What he might do. I mean, after Lena was Sorted into Ravenclaw, he…” Winn stops, shrugs, and flips the page of their shared textbook. He clears his throat a little. “We should really work on our Sleeping Drought. Pass me the salamander skin, will you?”
Kara hasn’t been on Earth long, but she recognizes when a subject is effectively closed, so she nods and focuses on their work, only looking towards Lena—at her dark hair and pale skin—once more, wondering what it is that makes Lena Luthor so…interesting.
(It’s not until many days later, while she’s at breakfast with her fellow Hufflepuffs, waiting for an owl from Clark she no longer thinks is coming, that she realizes what it is that so drew her to Lena: the stiffness of her shoulders—the hardness of her back—is the same thing Kara sees every time she passes by a mirror.)
x
In her second week at Hogwarts, one of the seventh years in her house shows her how to enter the kitchens, grinning at the rumbling of her stomach as he tickles the pear in the large portrait. Adam doesn’t stay long, patting her on the shoulder as he reminds her to be polite to the house elves, seemingly terribly amused by her wide eyes and gaping mouth.
By her third week at Hogwarts, her friends—which consists of Winn from her own year, James and Lucy from a year ahead of her, and of course Alex—know that should they ever need her, looking in the kitchens or the library is a safe bet.
(She likes the bustling of the kitchens, the kindness of the house elves, the food they press into her hands, seemingly thrilled by how much she enjoys what they give her. And she likes the quiet of the library, the dust and age, the way shutting things out and working on that persistent headache that builds throughout the day becomes easier in the solitude and solemnness between the bookshelves.
And if she likes the library because Lena spends an inordinate amount of time there too…well, no one really needs to know.)
She’s at Hogwarts for nearly a month—somehow managing to keep up with her studies, finally able to cast a spell with her wand for the first time, meaning that Clark was right and her Kryptonian cells hadabsorbed the magic in the air—when she runs into Lena at the library, still high off her success with the simple charm she’d managed, Clark’s instructions and Winn’s advice to leave Lena Luthor alone completely slipping from her mind.
“Hello!” Kara says cheerfully, slipping into the chair across from Lena, dropping her books messily onto the table and propping up her elbows on the wood. Lena looks up slowly, blinks owlishly, then frowns.
“Hello?”
(Kara’s too excited to notice that Lena’s response isn’t much of a response at all. She’s also too engrossed in the color of Lena’s eyes, debating whether they’re blue or if it’s just Lena’s Ravenclaw tie that makes it seem that way, to worry about the confusion on Lena’s face.)
“Remember last week in Charms, when you pointed out that it’s easier to cast Cheering Charms if you eliminate the twist and only flick?” Kara continues, watching as Lena’s eyebrows begin to rise. “I used it today, and it worked. Nothing’s worked for me. But I cast the Cheering Charm today and it’s all thanks to you.”
“Oh. You’re the exchange student from Ilvermorny,” she says, comprehension flooding her features. “Kara, right?” When Kara nods with a wide smile, Lena’s shoulders seem to relax a little, her grip on her pen finally loosening. “I don’t understand though. You haven’t been able to cast spells? Do they do magic differently at Ilvermorny?”
(Kara doesn’t know. Clark hasn’t told her anything about Ilvermorny.
She doesn’t think she can be blamed for the next words out of her mouth—it’s entirely Clark and Alex’s fault for not preparing her better.)
“I hadn’t come into my magic yet.”
“You…” Lena trails off, her brows furrowing in confusion, eyes narrowing somewhat as she takes Kara in. She must decide she doesn’t much care for Kara’s odd comment, because she moves on rather gracefully. “I guess I’m flattered that you paid attention to what I said in class, then,” she says, actually shutting the book she’s reading and leaning forward on the table, “but most people just call me a know-it-all.”
“No, it’s great!” Kara hastens to assure her, grin wide. “My family back on—” She stops, blushes, ducks her head, and then adjusts her glasses as she avoids Lena’s gaze. “I mean, my adoptive family, the Danvers, they’re very proud that Alex is a Ravenclaw. That she’s so smart.”
“Oh, I hadn’t—I didn’t realize you were adopted.” Something passes over Lena’s face, her expression becoming open for the first time as she gestures awkwardly to the books that Kara’s dropped onto the table. “Those are great books for beginners,” she says, swallowing and letting her hand fall almost listlessly by her side. “But if you ever needed more help…I could, you know. Help.”
“That would be amazing! Yes, I’ll absolutely take you up on that. We can even study in the kitchens!”
“In the kitchens?”
“You should see it, Lena. It’s practically a dream.”
Lena’s eyes are wide—seemingly shocked for some reason—but she smiles for the first time since Kara accosted her at the library table widely known to be Lena’s, and that single smile is more than enough for Kara to decide that she can add Lena to her list of friends.
x
“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” Alex asks in exasperation. “Everyonegoes. Even Luthor.”
“Don’t call her that,” Kara says tiredly, having gone through this exact same conversation every day since the notice for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year was put up. While Winn was excitedly planning his trip to Zonko’s, enthusiasm uncurbed by James and Lucy’s warnings that it wouldn’t meet all his expectations, Kara was looking forward to a Saturday of silence. With most of the students heading towards the village, the castle would be blessedly quiet—a chance for Kara to relax and not have to worry about blocking everyone out all the time. “I just…want to be alone. For a while.”
Alex must notice something, because guilt floods her features, and she reaches out and squeezes Kara’s hand. They’re sitting on the comfortable couches in front of the fire, the ones that the seventh and sixth years always monopolize. She’s glad that the common room is empty for once, the other Hufflepuffs having gone to bed early out of excitement for the next day. “Okay,” Alex says after a moment, eyes still searching Kara—just a tad uncomfortably. “If that’s what you want. But you can’t stop me from bringing you bags worth of Honeydukes.”
“You’dbetterbring me chocolate, Alex. It’s the best part of this planet.”
“Really, chocolate is the best part?”
“You’re a close second,” Kara jokes, allowing Alex to shove her, even pretending the action hurts. After she straightens, she thinks her heart might stop when Alex leans into her, even going so far as to rest her head on Kara’s shoulder.
(The action is so…familiar, familial. It makes Kara’s heart ache with want and need and an ever-present sadness that even the majesty and magic of Hogwarts hadn’t been able to eradicate.
The action brings tears to Kara’s eyes because for the first time since landing on this planet, she feels as if there’s hope for her to find a home yet.)
“There’s a secret passage that leads straight to the Honeydukes cellar,” Alex says, eyes on the fire and oblivious to Kara’s sudden rush of emotion (Alex, after all, couldn’t hear the change in Kara’s heart rate, hear the hitch in her breathing). “You and I could sneak into Hogsmeade another weekend, when it’s less crowded. You might enjoy it then.”
“What would Jeremiah and Eliza say if they heard you planning to sneak out of Hogwarts?”
“Well, Dad would probably help. But you’re right, we should keep it from Mom. She wouldn’t understand.”
“Did you see the papers?” Kara asks in a whisper, closing her eyes. In response, Alex shifts closer to Kara, squeezing her hand once more, though this time she doesn’t release it.
“We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Kara. Clark and Dad will stop Lex.”
“But all those innocent people—they’re like me. They were scared, they weren’t hurting anyone. I just don’t understand.”
“The pureblood families can’t go after muggleborns anymore so they’re focusing on aliens. They’re just trying to stay relevant, Kara. Don’t listen to what anyone says, you belong here just as much as anyone else—and Lex Luthor can’t touch you here.”
Kara nods in response, and for the first time, she leans into the comfort and touch and warmth so freely offered, wishing she didn’t feel so helpless.
(Wishing that she was the one doing the protecting, not the other way around.)
x
Professor Henshaw catches her wandering the corridors the next afternoon, and without giving her the chance to decline (not really wanting to spend more time with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor than strictly necessary, afraid of him despite Clark’s trust in him), he asks her to take a walk around the grounds with her, the two of them ending up by the lake, where they sit on the ground and watch a few first years attempt to frustrate the giant squid into rising from the water.
“Your other professors tell me your studies are going well, Miss Danvers,” Henshaw says, voice a deep rumble, eyes on the first years and a disapproving scowl on his lips. “Even if your magic still needs work.” He looks contemplative for a moment before allowing himself a grin. “Though considering you didn’t have magic before you came here, I think you’re doing wonderfully.”
“Thank you,” Kara manages, leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. Henshaw must follow her gaze, because after a short silence, he lets out a soft sigh.
“You spend a lot of time in the astronomy tower,” he says, and though he waits for a response, it’s clearly not a question.
“I do.”
“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?”
(She wonders how he knows—wonders how he could possibly know. Is it written on her face, are the words somehow slipping past a tongue and lips unused to the twist and harshness of the new language she’s told to use exclusively?
How can Professor Hank Henshaw know that she stares up at the sky, wondering if the light from Krypton’s destruction has finally reached Earth—that she might see a flicker from a distant star, a flicker and then just darkness? She wonders how he knows that at nights she stares up at the sky and hopes that she can find some tangible evidence that Krypton once existed—that even that last flash of light would be enough to settle the last shred of hope in her heart, the notion that something other than herself and the pod she arrived in survived Krypton’s destruction.
She wonders how he knows that she’s looking for something to finally force her to move on, that she’s hoping for a chance to say farewell to the only life she had ever known—a farewell she wasn’t allowed between the mere minutes her mother hugged her and sent her off, too quick to give Kara a chance to comprehend what was happening.)
“No. Not yet.”
“Sometimes, Miss Danvers,” Professor Henshaw begins slowly, tapping her on the shoulder and pointing towards the castle in the distance, where Kara can see Winn, James, and Lucy rushing towards her (laden with bags from Zonko’s and Honeydukes), a fairly amused Alex trailing more slowly behind them, so preoccupied by the sight of her friends that she doesn’t wonder how her professor had noticed or seen them in the first place, “it helps to look somewhere else. You might just find something you weren’t expecting.”
x
In the weeks leading up to their Christmas holidays, the number of attacks against known aliens increases, as does the number of confrontations between Lex Luthor and Superman. The Daily Prophetis filled with articles about the anti-alien sentiment flooding the wizarding community, even the Minister of Magic weighing in on the matter by suggesting an alien registry that would ensure they received the same rights and privileges as any other magical person—though there’s an undercurrent of fear, a belief that the registry would prevent aliens aware of the magical world from exposing magic to the muggles. As for the muggles themselves, they have similar issues, most of them in love with Superman but suspicious of aliens that look and act different. Theirnotion of a registry is more about keeping tabs on those they didn’t quite trust.
And through it all, Kara pretends she’s human.
It’s become easier as time has worn on: She eats normal portions at meals and sneaks off to the kitchens later to deal with her much higher than normal metabolism. She doesn’t leave the castle at night to fly around in the Forbidden Forest, not quite keen to be subjected to Henshaw’s ire once again. She manages to drown out the extraneous nose by focusing on one or two things at a time, the headaches of her first few weeks at Hogwarts a thing of the past. She learns exactly how much strength she can use on doors and pens and people, always holding herself back, always vigilant lest she break something—or much worse, hurt someone. English comes easily to her, magic even more so now that her cells have had time to absorb it from the air. And while she slips up often, mentioning things about Kryptonian life or culture, she finds blaming it on Ilvermorny is a valid excuse—it astonishes her how little the magical world seemed to know about those like them in other places.
Yet, when Christmas arrives, she realizes just how much she doesn’t know about humans or Earth.
The castle is transformed, trees and lights everywhere, the suits of armor singing things called carols whenever she passes by. She doesn’t quite understand why Winn claims she has to look under her tree for presents, doesn’t understand how those presents end up under the tree in the first place, but she’s glad he chalks up her confusion and ignorance to teasing, and spends most of their first day on holiday attempting to explain everything to her.
(It doesn’t quite work out; the snow blanketing the grounds, the frozen over lake, holds much of Kara’s attention, leaving her unable to remember what Winn had said about wizard crackers until she experiences it for herself later that afternoon with Lucy and Alex laughing at the look of shock on her face.
In payback, Kara forces them to spend hours each day in the snow, unable to get over its novelty, not feeling the cold that Alex reminds her she’s supposed to complain about, not even minding when Winn bewitches several snowballs to follow her around until they ram into her, leaving her soaked and laughing.)
By the time Christmas Eve rolls around, Kara has almost forgotten that Clark hasn’t written despite promising her he would, that Jeremiah and Eliza had asked Kara and Alex to remain at Hogwarts during the holidays because of Lex Luthor’s threats, that it’s been several days since she’s snuck up to the astronomy tower and stared at the sky until the weight tugging at her heart felt a little lighter. In fact, Kara feels…nice. She’s not happy, she doesn’t think she ever can be when half of her is still aching for something that no longer exists, but she thinks that Henshaw was right—that her friends and Alex are more worthy of her attention and preoccupation. After all, Krypton is gone, but her friends are here now.
On Christmas morning, however, when she listens to Lucy talk about her family, when James talks about traditions his family has, when Alex’s eyes light up as she describes a Christmas from several years previously, Kara feels like she’s crashed back to the ground, and she excuses herself, wandering the castles corridors on her own before ending up in the library.
And to her utter shock, Lena’s at her normal table, deep in the back, near the windows, head buried in a book.
She’s not shocked or confused when Kara sits across from her, she just offers Kara a small smile, bends over and digs through her bag for a moment before pulling out a second book and pushing it towards Kara.
“You look sad,” she says by way of explanation. Kara opens the book, flipping one page back and forth idly, eyes not leaving Lena’s. “I read when I’m sad.”
“You read a lot.”
“Yes.”
(It’s said so simply, so surely, and it makes Kara’s heart ache.)
“I thought you would go home for Christmas.”
“You don’t have to pretend you don’t know who I am, Kara,” Lena says, her smile gone, but her eyes still soft. “I’d really rather not go to a home surrounded by reporters, wanting to know about my brother. And besides, I’m not exactly welcome anyway. Not after this.” She gestures towards the blue and sliver crest on her robes.
“Do you want to know what I do when I’m sad?”
“I’m not going to the kitchens again, Kara. As much as I enjoy spending time with you, I think if I try to eat that much again I might actually get sick.”
“No, not the kitchens. Do you trust me?”
Lena blinks, staring at Kara like she’s never quite seen her before, but then she nods.
“Yes.”
(It’s said so simply, so surely, but this time, it makes Kara’s heart race.)
Slowly, Kara helps Lena gather her things, lifting her bag for her before leading her out of the library by the hand, not releasing her until they’re up on the astronomy tower. Kara drops Lena’s bag onto the ground, then lies on her back, staring up at the sky. It takes a moment, but Lena joins her, not even commenting on the cold, hard stone or the dust that must cover their robes now.
“So you come here when you’re sad,” Lena says after a moment, her voice breaking the silence and pulling Kara out of thoughts that were quickly becoming dark. “Do you spend a lot of time here?”
Kara doesn’t even think to lie, doesn’t even imagine that Lena might ask her to elaborate, doesn’t even wonder if Lena’s curious about what makes this one spot—staring up at the sky—a place of comfort for her. All she does is answer simply and surely, much like Lena.
“Yes.”
Lena doesn’t respond with words—she merely reaches out and takes Kara’s hand and somehow, it’s enough.
x
Alex and several of her classmates are huddled around one of the trees, passing around notes and complaining about the OWLs, while Kara sits with James, Winn, and Lucy, grinning as her three friends debate the latest Quidditch game. (Kara doesn’t quite see the appeal of Quidditch, she can fly better on her own than with any clunky, slow, and uncoordinated broom. But she enjoys listening to Winn’s passion, James’s incredulity, and Lucy’s smugness when they talk about their favorite teams.) She’s about to ask why James is a Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team if his favorite player is a Seeker when she notices her friends’ slack faces, smiles and excitement dying as they look somewhere behind Kara. When Kara turns, it’s to see Lena standing there, books pressed tightly to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“Kara,” she says with a nod, looking anxiously at James, Winn, and Lucy. “You asked me to meet you here?” Kara isn’t sure why Lena phrases it as a question, or why she seems so betrayed, but she scrambles to her feet and takes Lena’s books from her, grinning widely.
“I’m so glad you came!” She drops the books, blushing slightly when Lena raises her eyebrows at the action, and turns back to the others. “Guys, you all know Lena. Lena, this is James, Winn, and Lucy.”
“She’s my housemate,” Winn says, huffing. “Of course I know my own housemate, Kara. What do you take me for?” For whatever reason, Winn’s joke has Lena’s shoulders relaxing, Lucy’s subsequent laugh making Lena smile a little.
“I think Kara is trying to say you don’t pay attention to your surroundings, Schott. Just like the Chasers with your precious Chudley Cannons.”
“Do I knock the Harpies, Lane? No, I don’t. So leave the Cannons alone,” Winn says, crossing his arms and looking terribly offended. James laughs at his girlfriend and self-described best friend, teasing them about neither of their teams having won the League in some time—unlike the “greatPuddlemere United” he comments—and Kara looks back at Lena, smiling as she motions for her to sit down.
Lena is unsure for only a moment. The second the argument about Puddlemere United dies off, Lucy asks about Arithmancy, and Lena launches into a lecture, hands excitedly waving in the air as she and Winn begin to debate the finer points of the class. It goes over Kara’s head, having chosen Care of Magical Creatures over Arithmancy, but Lena’s eyes are bright, so Kara finds she doesn’t quite care.
(Much later, Winn comes over to the Hufflepuff table during dinner, and he punches Kara lightly on the shoulder. “I was wrong,” he says before rushing back. Kara’s eyes follow him, and she can’t help but grin widely when she sees him sitting with Lena at the end of the table—where she used to sit alone.)
x
She gets her first letter from Clark in April, after several weeks of what felt like non-stop rain. Merely getting up in the morning felt like a chore, but she’d promised Lena and Winn she’d study with them in the library after a quick breakfast.
(In her first few weeks, she couldn’t help but look up every single morning, hoping to see an owl head towards her, hoping to see something from her cousin, instead of just reading Jeremiah and Eliza’s letters after Alex had skimmed through them. But while Jeremiah and Eliza wrote consistently at least once a week to the two Danvers sisters, it was as if Clark had slipped off the face of the planet—even if Superman hadn’t.
And after two months, Kara had stopped looking up.)
She thinks she’s understandably shocked when the owl drops the letter into her orange juice, frowning at the animal until one of her housemates takes pity on her and feeds the owl some bacon before letting it fly away.
The letter is short.
(He tells her he’s proud of her.
He tells her that he wanted her to have a life like his, one without fear or worry.
He tells her that he wished they could have spent more time together.)
(Kara wonders why it sounds a little bit like a goodbye.)
It’s still early, the castle is dreary thanks to the rain, and Kara finds herself mindlessly heading up to the library, seeking out an alcove by one of the windows, thinking she’d just sit there and wait until Winn and Lena showed up. She’s not quite sure when she pulls her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s not quite sure when Lena arrives, sitting down across from her and mimicking her position.
“I thought he’d be here for me,” Kara says without thinking and she hears Lena let out a mirthless laugh. The Ravenclaw shifts until they’re shoulder to shoulder, pressed so close to Kara that her warmth seeps into Kara’s skin despite the rain outside and the dreariness and chill of the castle, despite the frigidness that’s taken hold of Kara from within. Lena doesn’t ask what Kara means, she doesn’t even look confused. She just leans her head on Kara’s shoulder.
(It feels different from when Alex did it. With Alex, it made Kara think of her mother and father, it made her think of home and safety. With Lena, it makes her heart beat different, makes her feel warm and wanted—needed.)
“Lex was my best friend,” Lena says in a whisper, as if afraid someone might hear her, this terrible, dark secret. “When I was younger, he used to read me stories. Not just of the three brothers, but stories about Hogwarts, about everything he saw here, about how much he wanted to change.” She stops, reaches out and grips Kara’s hand hesitantly, letting out a tiny puff of air when Kara’s squeezes tightly and doesn’t let her let go. “When he left Hogwarts, he changed. He stopped visiting. Not even when I got my letter. And then I hear he’s the new Voldemort—the Prophethas stories about his insanity every other day.” She heaves a breath, turning her head slightly to meet Kara’s eyes. “He was my best friend, Kara. He was always there and then…he wasn’t.”
“Do you hate Superman?” Kara asks quietly, not really wanting to hear the response, not really wanting to know.
“Yes. But not because he’s an alien or because he’s fighting Lex.” Lena pulls away, leaving Kara feeling emptyand not really knowing why. “I hate Superman because he’s saved so many, but he didn’t save Lex.” Her features harden and she swallows hard. “But most of all, I hate Lex. Because I don’t think he couldbe saved.”
“So you read a lot.”
“And you stare at the stars.”
“We’re some pair,” Kara mutters, surprised when the comment makes Lena laugh and lean her head back on Kara’s shoulder.
“Would you feel better if I agreed to a snack break after we get through our History of Magic notes?”
“Ugh, how do you not fall asleep in that class?” Kara asks, laughing as well. “Do you promise you won’t complain when Winn and I eat éclairs?”
“I have to complain, Kara. It’s gross. You really shouldn’t eat so many.”
“You’re taking all the fun out of a snack break, Lena.”
“Stop complaining. We have pages and pages of notes to get through.”
Kara pretends to put up a fight, but she allows Lena to tug her to her feet, dragging her to what Lena had affectionately called theirtable, where Winn is already waiting. Neither of them mention Kara’s tears or Lena’s confession again, but Kara feels…lighter…and she’s rather sure Lena’s smile comes more easily, fading less quickly, than it did before. And though she’s been at Hogwarts for nearly an entire school year—though she owns a wand and can cast spells and charms, though a talking hat Sorted her into her house, though she’s watched James fly around on a broom for an insane sport, though she’s spent so much time with moving paintings and incredible creatures—it’s only at this moment, when she catches sight of Lena Luthor’s smile, that everything finally feels magical.
And if that makes Hogwarts feel a little bit like a home…well, no one needs to know it’s thanks to Lena.